Jag måste ärligt säga att jag fick konceptet från en annan novell som jag läste. Jag älskade det, och lånade det till en liten stream-of-consiousness-text. Hoppas att ni har överseende.
It hurts. This silent absence in my chest. I feel like a rose, blooming fully; still beautiful, but weary and soon to die. It shouldn’t be like this, not ever, not now. Not already. I’m too young. I’m only seventeen.
Cold around me, like frozen silk. I can still see her, kneeling by my side. But I’m floating above her; and my body is still and pale. She’s crying, in pain. She shouldn’t have to feel like this. Not after those few years. She’s only seventeen.
He left too soon. Left me behind. Went to a world to which I can’t follow. Come back, Oliver, sweetheart, please. It’s too early. We just had a year. Our anniversary was the last happiness, and only some days have passed since then. Not too many. Only seventeen.
I miss her already. As if it was she that left me. But she remains, and I’m the one who left. It shouldn’t have happened; I say it over and over again. But it did, and I can’t do anything. Nothing to comfort, nothing to give. On our anniversary some days ago, I gave her roses. She’s clinging to them now. But they’re not enough. She deserves a hundred thousand. But she got only seventeen.
I should have told him more often. “I love you”, that’s not hard to say. But I didn’t. Not enough. So I hope he knows, though several days have passed since he left. Days feeling like eternity, but they’re not that many. Just two and a half. And a little more. Two and a few hours, only seventeen.
She still counts the hours since that happened. Even though, I can’t come back, no matter how many hours that passes. Not like I didn’t try. I tried over and over again.
I weren’t ready to die, not ready to leave her. I’m twenty-one years old. Serena’s only seventeen.
I whish he hadn’t gone. Not by himself. “It’s probably just some animal”, he said. Scottish accent singing. “I’ll check it out.” We should have learned. At least after Rekka. But we didn’t. And they killed him. At least it didn’t take long. He only suffered for some minutes. Still, minutes like hours. And even though they were too many, they were only seventeen.
It’s like time’s disappeared. I think it has. I lost concept of it before I died. Don’t know how many minutes that passed. How many minutes of pain. But Serena said it, and I herd her. They weren’t many after all. Only seventeen.
Another has gone now. Another warrior. Another hero. My hero, for he saved me. We’re still a few left. Some would say that we’re many, but we’re not. Not for the fight that lies ahead. The remaining warriors aren’t enough. We’re only seventeen.